


A Scarsdale Outing

by murphybabe



Category: The Professionals
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-13
Updated: 2013-10-13
Packaged: 2017-12-29 07:18:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,257
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1002548
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/murphybabe/pseuds/murphybabe
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A trip to the Scarsdale Tavern takes an unexpected turn.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Scarsdale Outing

A Scarsdale Outing

The pub was busy on this cold, snowy afternoon. Coming into the warmth and light, Doyle made a beeline for the fireside while Bodie pushed his way through the crowd to the bar. Cowley had called them in early on what was technically their day off, but Cowley’s view on days off was somewhat elastic. They had staked out yet another warehouse over by Earl’s Court, waiting for hours in the unexpected snow as information filtered through, was analysed, and finally discounted. Cold, weary and fed up, they had headed back to Bodie’s Kensington flat and had stopped at the Scarsdale Tavern by unspoken agreement.

Doyle headed for a table near the open fire and slumped into a seat, waiting for Bodie to bring the drinks. Upon Bodie’s arrival, he stared at the glasses in amazement.

‘What’s that, then?’

‘Mulled cider. Thought we’d try it. Need it, on a day like this.’

Doyle regarded the brimming glasses doubtfully.

‘It’s hot!’

‘Yeah, that’s the point, sunshine. Warm your cockles, that will.’

‘Bit poncey, innit?’

Bodie slid into the seat opposite Doyle and gave him a very direct stare. 

‘Shut up and sup up, Ray.’

Doyle grinned. The cider was very good, sweeter than he usually liked but with a warming kick of orange and cinnamon. He watched as across the table from him the tension went out of Bodie’s shoulders, and his mind wandered to those shoulders, and if they might get back to what they’d been doing when Cowley so inconsiderately interrupted them that morning…

‘I bet you slept with my wife!’

The voice was loud, and the speaker was carefully over-enunciating, as one who knows he is drunk but still believes he can carry it off. Bodie blinked, and stared at Doyle, who gazed back, lips twitching. Doyle’s back was to the bloke who’d just spoken, and he desperately wanted to turn around and see who had just spoken. Bodie’s gaze slid slowly sideways, over Doyle’s shoulder, and he smirked at the frustrated expression on his partner’s face.

‘Didn’t you? I mean, it’s okay, man – a lot of people have slept with my wife. She doesn’t want to sleep with me. Well, she does, sometimes, but she sleeps with lots of other blokes as well.’

The other man at the table whispered something, making conciliating gestures with his hands, but his companion blundered on, getting more agitated.

‘We had this agreement, right? An open relationship, she calls it. Sounds good, dunnit, means I can play away as well. Only… I don’t wanna anymore. Just want her, see?’

Bodie watched, fascinated, as the other bloke at the table attempted to pacify his friend, and the man subsided slightly under his calming influence. The landlady relaxed her vigilance and the ambient noise level in the bar rose again to its normal level. 

Casually, Doyle swivelled on his seat, apparently looking for the way to the gents, or a clock… anything to give him sight of the unhappy drunk.

The agitation at the table behind Doyle grew again.

‘An what are you lookin’ at? ‘S a private conversation, this is. Unless you slept with the bitch as well. Did you? Well, the more the merrier, mate, you can ‘ave her. See if I care.’

‘No, not me, mate. I don’t know your wife. A lovely lady, I’m sure.’ Doyle gave the man his most wide-eyed look, lounging back casually in his seat.

Bodie rolled his eyes. Was the daft git being deliberately provocative? That was no way to reassure someone who was clearly several over the limit.

The bloke lurched to his feet, setting his table rocking and spilling his friend’s drink. As the friend grabbed desperately to right everything, and the landlady focused on their corner with a narrow glare, Bodie rose from his seat, deliberately flexing his muscles.

‘No, sonny. He didn’t sleep with your wife. The only person he sleeps with is me. Now fuck off quietly and let us all get on with our drinks in peace, all right?’

There was a stunned silence in the bar. The landlady bustled over, anxious to defuse the situation before it grew ugly.

‘All right, James, it’s time for you to take your friend home now. I think he’s had enough.’ Under her watchful eye the drunk was piloted out of the pub and the stir and eddy of the cold air from the door drew mad swirls in the cigarette smoke lingering in the atmosphere. 

The atmosphere was wary, with all eyes still on Bodie. He scanned the crowd, face set and muscles tense, poised for action. There was a rustle, and a murmuring. A woman giggled. 

‘Come on then, ladies and gents. The fun’s over. Settle down.’ The landlady’s stance was firm as she stared her customers down. There were still a lot of curious gazes focused on Bodie and Doyle, and the susurration of whispers grew, until gradually the noise rose again to its normal level, reflecting the happy state of having something to gossip over. 

‘And you two.’ The landlady turned her attention to the partners, examining them with a critical eye. ‘I would never have guessed it. You don’t look like it, I must say.’

Scowling, Doyle took a breath to say something, and Bodie pinched his arm hard to stop the hot-headed idiot in his tracks before they got thrown out of the pub as well.

‘No need to worry, love. We’re not going to cause any trouble,’ he said smoothly, exerting his charm and smiling down into her eyes.

‘It’s not catching or anything,’ Doyle muttered. He grunted as Bodie’s elbow unaccountably hit him in the ribs, but followed the other man out of the pub and back onto the cold street. They headed back to Bodie’s flat in silence, and it wasn’t until they’d set the locks, flicked the lights on and turned on the gas fire that either of them referred to the incident.

Doyle was thoughtful. 

‘That’s the first time you’ve said that in public.’

‘What, and you don’t like it?’

‘No, I like it all right, it’s just that I thought…’

‘You thought what, Doyle?’ Bodie’s air of menace made Doyle’s cock spring to attention within his jeans, and he shifted uncomfortably.

‘Well, I just never thought I’d hear you say it. And especially not in public. Bloody hell, Bodie, you realise that’s another pub we can’t go back to?’

Bodie grinned. ‘Well, you said their drinks were poncey.’

Doyle was still worrying at the problem. ‘What about Cowley?’

‘Cowley? He’d think their drinks were poncey too. “Mulled cider, laddie? Ach, Doyle, dinna ye ken there’s nae ddrrrink tae beat a drrrram or two of guid single malt?”’

‘Very good, mate, and can you do a Scottish accent as well?’

The resulting scuffle ended with Doyle pinned underneath Bodie on the floor, with Bodie rocking purposefully against his groin. Doyle pushed ineffectually at him, half his mind still occupied by his partner’s public announcement. 

‘No, gerroff a minute, I’m thinking.’

‘Thinking?’ Bodie scoffed. ‘If you’re thinking, I’m not doing it right!’

Persuasive hands slid over Doyle’s chest, teasing at responsive nipples as Bodie slowly, methodically unfastened the buttons on Doyle’s shirt, before hovering over the buckle of his belt.

‘You want this or not?’ Bodie’s gaze was hard and uncompromising.

‘Oh yeah…’ and Doyle abandoned the problem of the bloke, the bloke’s wife, the bloke’s friend, the landlady and Cowley’s undoubted reaction to concentrate fully on his partner. The only person he slept with.

**Author's Note:**

> Notes: mulled cider is perhaps somewhat anachronistic for the Scarsdale at that time, but I wanted to include it here. Also, the phrase this fic is based on – “I bet you slept with my wife” - was heard by several of us. None of the rest of it is true – the bloke wasn’t drunk, he wasn’t belligerent at all, so who knows what prompted it? Sadly, we will never, ever know.
> 
> And yes, I know that they both would have sat with their backs to the wall, and that Bodie would never have outed them in public… but this was how it turned out, okay? Write it off as an AU *g*
> 
> Thanks to ladyhawke and greengerbil for help!


End file.
